In praise of Marmite

I like to think of myself as being far more interesting than I really am and so of course I always considered myself an exception to the marketing slogan. I neither loved nor hated Marmite. It was fine, it was just there. But then two things happened to me.

The first was that I appeared on Caroline O’Donoghue’s magical podcast Sentimental Garbage and she told me that the Marmite branded snacks “never miss”. On her say-so, I started with Graze’s Marmite Crunch which is just the perfect little savoury pouch; all different crunchy textures, savouried and salted to the max by Marmite, in the way that only Marmite can. With my children loosely in mind, I bought Marmite rice cakes – almost too obvious. Why would you not glaze a rice cake with Marmite? If you want to add pizzazz to the blandest snack product on the market, this is the only sensible thing to do. I ate them five at a time, with cream cheese on. 

If your Marmite stance is anything like mine, the second thing that happened to me might shake you to your core. Hold on to your crumpets, here it comes: I finished a jar.

I know the stans bash out fortnightly jars but I think there are many of you, who – like me – get their fix on a more wheneverly basis. And for us, the jars keep giving. I scraped out the last sticky black residue with my little dinner knife and then I did my very best to clean that jar out before recycling it. Honestly, I’d barely thought of Marmite as something that could run out. Adding a new one to my food shop felt momentous.

But boy did that residue serve me. Marmite is not like hot sauce or peanut butter where the stuff that solidifies around the neck becomes hardened, questionable, weird. All of it is weird, and all of it is good. All of it can be put to work. The residue served as a pasta sauce (inspired by Nigella’s, always), with butter and grated cheddar, for my child, when I had bupkis in the house. 

Marmite is always there. Or, to put it another way, it’s always poised and ready to give its all. It goes and goes and goes. And it’s the last thing to fall when the chips are down. Maybe the reason I love Marmite now is that I’m a mum, and it reminds me of myself.

Savour the British, well, savoury, spread in Paul Ainsworth’s autumn menu of hearty pork chops – served with a side of Marmite-roasted cabbage and tart apple compote, or in Andi Oliver’s umami-rich mushroom curry, with a hint of said spread for richness and depth of flavour.